Tarot souls
by Alone in the blight
Summary: Just a collection of small Tarot themed one-shots. nothing too special.
1. The Magician

**A/N: hello, this fic is but a practice on a certain aspect of writing. consider it a mini series of sort. I would cherish a private message or a review explaining errors and what not. **

** . . .**

Time for _that day…_

"Students… commence!" master Logan opened a small gate for the hounds to exit. The aged man might be mental to some but his methods are praised all over the dragon school.

Other teachers and senior students watched the novices fending themselves with soul arrows from the vicious dogs. However, in the midst of the fray, one girl caught the attention of many:

Mioa the scathed was her name. She got her title from the deep scar running from the top of her head to the right side of her side. She was vulgar, poor, bad mouthed and rebellious and yet her style was something unique. The young youth carved her catalyst to resemble some sort of a crude weapon; perhaps a club or a barbed sword. She showed extreme brutality towards the hounds mangling their limbs up close before blasting their cranium with a slightly red soul arrow.

The exam was done. Most of the students did alright, few sustained minor injuries. Logan was glad to reap the success of his students. "Alright stu-"he was interrupted by a rather rude voice.

"Shouldn't you dwell among your filthy kind in the great swamps? The refuses are abundant for you barbarians to enjoy." Whatever floated in Archmage Penipeth's mind was to be said… he is the archmage after all.

The girl gritted her teeth in anger clenching more onto her disfigured catalyst till blood started to drip from the catalyst's grip. Logan quickly interfered "I beg your pardon my Archmage, but the girl did nothing wrong. she passed the test rightfully like the rest of-"

"Where is **your **head Logan? This fine establishment aims to graduate proper sorcerers not some abomination like this girl. I want her expelled. In fact, I want her out of my city!" murmurs and whispers plagued the air. Logan's recommendation was in fact the only reason she is still studying.

"_You and me… now._" Mioa repulsing voice killed all the whispers. Everyone was astonished; did she just challenge… the archmage?

"So be it, let me show you why I rule Vinhiem." even though the man surpassed the age of youth, he managed to hop to the area from the second line of seat. He revealed his gem-decorated catalyst. The girl didn't flinch. Logan could do nothing now; the girl had sealed her fate by herself.

Penipeth casted his Soulmass and turned around expecting a moan of pain. Instead, a sharp pain erupted in his back. Mioa had dodged the soul orb only to strike hard on his back with her catalyst. The archmage kicked her in the midsection then he charred her chest by a heavy soul mass knocking her feet away. Big hat instinctively wanted to protect her but the man simply couldn't. cheers erupted from the crowd, some started to say **"Kill her, kill her , kill her!**"

"Right away? where is the fun in that?" he started the carnage by cutting of her left arm with a powerful soul spear then her left leg followed by another soul spear. The girl swallowed her screams refusing to let pain overcome her pride. The archmage crouched next to her "Any last word, my sweet filth?"

" Raagh1_!_" She unleashed the true potential of her catalyst by spewing thick waves of bloody soul matter. It didn't kill the man but it mangled his skin and most importantly his face. Pus and papules emerged from his disgusting skin. He became the very thing he loathed.

"UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH! RAGHHHH!" in his rage, he conjured a powerful soul spear that punctured her chest along with the floor exposing the sewer system below. Her corpse fell into the depth below. Everyone was shocked, none dared to utter a word except Logan "her death marks my last days in Vinhiem. I will leave this drench place…lest I become something like you."


	2. The Tower

"Come on, mother! Tell us more tales about your ventures!" my daughter, Annette, was always excited as her father used to be. I knew that my little youngling wouldn't sleep in her bed until I tell her any adventure of mine.

"Fine, Annette. But promise me to sleep afterwards. Staying up night is bad for you, sweetie" Annette nodded whilst tucking herself in bed.

My past life was full of death and misery. I searched my memories for a nice tale. "Back in the land of the gods, I was a youthful lass wandering hither and thither. My wanderlust brought me to a fortress brimmed with nasty traps, pitfalls, swinging axes on narrow pathways…everything grave you can imagine."

"WOW!" my little dumpling exclaimed. "Did you see….some dragons?"

I Chuckled "Haha, not there my child." Annette was disappointed momentarily "But I met someone special back then."

"Daddy?"

"No, my sweetheart. I met your daddy under the rays of sunlight in undead burg. That special someone was Iron Tarkus. Never in my life had I encountered a man of strength and honour. Together, we brought down the mighty iron golem of Sen's fortress."

"Daddy, daddy! Mother says she met someone stronger than you!" Annette shouted upon Solaire's entrance to her room. My husband patted on her petite head bearing a joyful smile as always "he might be. But none might be grossly incandescent such as myself. Sleep now, young girl"

And so our little angel slumbered. We slowly closed the door behind us.

"Stronger, eh?" Solaire teased me. I blushed while kissing the sunny bastard "Oh hush you!"


	3. The sun

_O my sun…._

_Where art thou…_

_O beautiful sun…_

_My life is a shade…_

_O glamorous sun…_

_Teach me how…_

_O glistening sun…_

_To reverse my fade…_

_O Ever-shining sun…_

_Bath me with your quintessence…_

_O Ever-lost sun…_

_Without your grace…_

_I am but a hollowed crescent…_

_If I could only be so grossly incandescent… _


	4. Death

Nito was rudely awakened by another servant. The first of the dead could turn him to another skeleton… or worse. Yet he had this tendency of forgiving his new servants.

"My Lord, i plagued five more worlds for your delight. I bestow these eyes of deaths for your delight." He dropped five eyes of death next to nito's bony feet. Despite their name, they were slightly twitching. Nito threw a parchment of paper to his minion. The new servant opened the parchment and read it with haste. He clenched on his talisman with a wicked grin on his face "'Finally! The art of sword dance is within my grasp….now… **prepare to die, Nito!**"

His dug his talisman to the ground expecting swords of the red death to puncture its former lord. However, they didn't arise. Only a chilling laugh echoed in the air. Nito summoned a small sword which went through his servant's rear.

He didn't die though. Instead, the swords slowly craved through the man's flesh very very slowly. Nito, went back to sleep with the sweet echoes of agony and dismay.


	5. The high priestess

** . . .**

"M' lady, are you ready?"

"Just…Just give me a second." Rhea's voice was almost inaudible; Vince and Nico grew accustomed of hearing Rhea's whispers. They didn't object really; for there were more serious problems at hand.

The maiden stepped outside of her house under the cloak of the starless night. She knew that she ought to depart from Thorolund this instance but there is something important to attend first.

The white maiden reached her family's gravestone at the backyard. She kneeled and started to pray:

_O mother of mine, please grant me your compassion…_

_O father of mine, please grant me strength…_

_O gods of old, embrace me with thy warmth…_

_Bath me in thy virtue…_

_Aid me in the pilgrimage…_

_Vervor nox…_

She stood up gazing at her mother's and father's grave for the last time before joining up with Vince and Nico.


	6. The Fool

"…If you survived your travels." Said Chester with a devious grin under his wicked mask. That undead buffoon was heading for Artorias. Normally, it would bring good tidings to the man of Carim since the unweary undead would certainly become another victim of the abysswalker. More deaths meant good business for Chester along with some sort of entertainment. However, this particular undead has this unexplainable aura printed in his very essence. He had absorbed many great souls… he might just best Artorias.

The devious crossbowman dispelled that thought and went for a secret elevator only discovered by him lately. Long ago, it used to lift spectators to the higher seats in the arena. Chester used the magic empowered elevator to get to the very top of the arena; a perfect sniper's nest it was.

"Come on, Artorias, give me some view." Chester's eagle eye looked through the crossbow for a window in the midst of the raging battle below. The undead was holding his grounds firmly. Gwyn's faithful was having a hard time with this one though he wouldn't be much of a problem if Artorias fought him in his former glory.

Marvelous chest gritted on his teeth in frustration; whenever the undead was in view, he was either dodging or shielding up. The occasional splashes and bursts of the abyss blurred the scene as well.

Until, the abyss claimed the last scraps of sanity of the azure knight.

The undead's arm was torn apart along with his useless crest shield. Chester held his breath to snipe the undead until a hulking presence blocking the glinting sun from his side **"Dare'st not."**

There he was, Hawkeye gough himself aiming his inhumane great bow towards Chester's puny figure. Countless calcuations and probabilities ran through the sniper's head. few were along his side. He decided to lay down his arms … momentarily at least.

"Are giants dumb and thick-headed like you, oh mighty knight of Gwyn? I was … trying to save your dear Artorias. You are aiming at the wrong person."

Gough watched the clash of swords briefly before reply "My…friend is long dead. Swallowed by the very plague he sought he prevent. What fights down below is but a shade of a man. A great honourable man."

The dyad watched the fight in grim silence. Gough couldn't bring himself to finish off his old friend. Perhaps this undead will bring peace to his friend. Alas the fight ended with Artorias giving one last wail of agony to this world. The undead met the same fate afterwards; the gaping wounds on his chest along with the wicked traces of the abyss were beyond Estus or miracles.

"Bah! What a waste!" Chester left the scene hastily. Any death not accomplished by his crossbow was never satisfactory. Gough on the other hand, stared blankly at the two corpses. Tears would have flooded his helm if it weren't for the resin blocking the way. for the first time, Gough felt aimless and insignificant. A turbulence of emotions plagued his souls. He threw his great bow in dismay gazing one last time at the arena before saying "Proud human, may every honour be bestowed upon thee."

**And yes, i am aware that Gough is blind.**


	7. The hanged man

**Jesus, guys, he is 'legally' blind, satisfied?**

The lonely head of Vengarl observed the shaded world from literally a single perspective for quite some time now. If only someone would scratch his nose….

His serenity was interrupted by a series of solid footsteps treading through the fog carelessly. As expected, the ghastly soldiers backstabbed whoever he/she was. The silent head sighed out of disappointment; He longed for a mere exchange of words.

And yet he heard a muffled warcry, a warcry he knew very well. "_No…" _muttered the head upon seeing his bloodthirsty body. His rather huge palm grabbed him with three fingers only.

"_You can not destroy me, you idiot, my death means yours too!" _Vengarl bluffed. His body is too dumb his know truth from lies. The body sat on a small boulder thinking of what could be done with his loathsome head.

It wasn't the greatest plan. It wasn't the most efficient plan but the headless body did it anyway. He reached the highest point of Drangleic in the wyvern nests and coiled the head with a hanging rope on an edge leaving his saner part tumbling from the harsh winds and annoyed by the shrieking winged beasts.

Now, back to the slaughter….

**One of dark souls 2 saving graces**


	8. The World

**Dark souls 2 here not for you scraper! D:**

"The flames…the flames…how…" Cale was absolutely absorbed in thoughts. Days has it been since the flames started to flicker on this earthen map in his manor. Books, young and old, big and small, blocked the way to upstairs. His primal needs screeched for satisfaction and yet he quelled such necessities for he needed to get to the bottom of his … one way or another.

The air is getting thinner and more humid with time. Cale took off his saggy garments to concentrate more just like this ancient mage he read about.

"Hmm..Err..Hmm…CONCENTRATE DAMN YOU! "He tore another useless page from his most precious book (which was in fact the largest of them all). It was a sad scene to witness; to see good man succumbing to the path of hollowing whilst trying to attain some knowledge. Cale tore apart as many books as he could with his waning strength …

That was till the one of the flames turned into blue.

"B-blue? i… red, blue.. blue blue blue blue. Life err…ugn...ah..AHA! Ahahahahahaha!" whatever he had discovered set his mind ablaze as he trotted around cheerfully throwing bits and pieces of paper here and there. In his verge of happiness, those tiny pieces of paper were devoured by the ever-hungry flames. They grew violently demanding more and more. Cale was surrounded by a raging sea of flames. There was no way out.

"N-n-n-n-n-no No nooo NO! people must hear, know, listen. I can change EVERYTHING!" he shouted to no one in particular. He had no other choice but to go deeper into his manor. The blue wall of flames shed some light on a particular wall showing its translucency…an illusionary wall.

Cale went through the wall only to find a rotting skeleton clutching to what seems to be a broken vessel. His armor was worn beyond recognition. His shield was ever so brilliant like the day it was forged with the branding insignia of the mighty sun. The corpse picked up its broken sword from the dusty floor and slothed slowly towards Cale. The endangered man was stark naked and armless, there was nothing he could do.

Despite all odds, Cale inhaled deeply and laughed like never before " Hahahaaha….aaahhaaahahaa! Aaah, Ooooh the irony…."

He embraced the rusty sword with a smile whilst his soul was crying in agony. If only he could tell someone of his discovery…

**I will let you figure out the ol' Miyazaki storytelling right here...**


End file.
